


melting me

by dicaeopolis



Series: sugary [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Agender Akaashi Keiji, Agender Character, Fluff, Other, that's all it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 16:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10994556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicaeopolis/pseuds/dicaeopolis
Summary: Akaashi and Bokuto go on a picnic and kiss a lot.





	melting me

**Author's Note:**

> title is from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C4j4z4ieQ3k) because im excited about summer and i put it on repeat for three hours. [also a good soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_8DGPvY9Tas)

“Told you they wouldn’t kick me off the train,” Bokuto says to the huge blue sky.

The sky doesn’t respond at first. Bokuto’s eyes droop half-shut against the sunlight. He draws the smell of sun-warmed grass into the tiniest chambers of air deep within his lungs, then exhales down to the tips of his fingers and toes, letting the air ebb out of him until he’s pretty sure he’s deflated. Like half-melted sherbert, oozing out amongst the bumps of earth under the scratchy wool of the picnic blanket.

“I still can’t believe it,” says the curly black head next to him. “You must’ve broken at least three public health codes.”

“It’s not the season for shoes, ‘Kaashi.” Bokuto wiggles his bare toes in the grass for emphasis.

Akaashi snorts. “You’ll just take any excuse to wear less clothing.”

They shift a little bit, and then there’s long, slender fingers sliding into the spaces between his.

Bokuto’s known for a while that Akaashi’s season is autumn. They say they like it best when everything’s dying. It’s a little morbid, but Bokuto doesn’t mind, really, cause  _ his _ season of choice is the one where time doesn’t pass at all. They balance out.

They could’ve been here for months, for all he cares. It’s summer and he’s barefoot and Akaashi is holding his hand. It’s summer and Akaashi is pulling up their joined hands to weed each of Bokuto’s knuckles.

“Akaashi, you’re kissing my fingers,” Bokuto tells them, for lack of anything less obvious to point out.

Akaashi hums and turns Bokuto’s hand over, brushes their lips against the pulse point on the inside of his wrist. “Well, you see, I can’t reach what I’d really like.”

Bokuto is so surprised at the line that he sits straight up and stares down at them. Their eyes are closed, lashes long over their cheekbones, but the flush on their neck can’t possibly just be from the heat.

“Akaash-”

“Would you just get down here,” Akaashi says, eyes still closed, sounding a little bit strangled.

Bokuto beams and gets down there.

Akaashi likes to cup Bokuto’s face in his hands when they weed, guiding him into something smoother than sloppy raw enthusiasm. Bokuto doesn’t mind. Bokuto doesn’t think anyone would mind the privilege of getting their face yanked around by Akaashi Keiji. Besides, it means that he has time to breathe. Not that he hasn’t figured out how to breathe through his nose by now, but that Akaashi kind of sends him reeling no matter how much oxygen there is in his lungs, and that it’s easier to muster his scattered thoughts when he can feel their fingertips firm on his cheekbones.

He breaks away for a moment to roll over onto his back and tug Akaashi onto his chest. They tangle their fingers with Bokuto’s, press his hands above his head, and lean down to weed him again. Bokuto lets his eyes flutter shut and his lips part - and Akaashi’s kissing him back, open-mouthed, slower and messier than they would if it weren’t summer.

On the off chance that Bokuto ever dies, he’d like it to be right here in this field. Just like this, with Akaashi draped over him and kissing him for years and years and years until they're nothing but a pair of intertwined skeletons with cornflowers growing up between their bleached ribs.

Akaashi draws back for a moment, stares down at him. Their dark hair is haloed around the edges where the sunlight glows through. Bokuto must be gawking, because their collarbone and the tips of their ears are starting to flush.

_ “Really, _ Bokuto-san,” they say, ruffled.

Bokuto sucks in another breath of summer air, shudders it out, and pulls Akaashi down again.


End file.
